Pleasure
by Kimmeth
Summary: Whilst monitoring the M-sur-M whores, a couple of younger officers speculate as to their superior's personal life. Rated for naughty insinuations, which when dealing with prostitutes are somewhat unavoidable. One-Shot.


**Summary: **Whilst monitoring the M-sur-M whores, a couple of younger officers speculate as to their superior's personal life. Rated for naughty insinuations, which when dealing with prostitutes are somewhat unavoidable.

**Disclaimer: **Alas, much as I love Monsieur l'Inspecteur, he is not mine. I only own the TAC CD, and even that's a copy of a friend's… I'll lay claim to the idea though, and the younger officers.

**Note: **Ok, bear with me and I will explain the reasoning behind this one. I was inspired by a line in the book when Javert is chasing Valjean to the nunnery (my paperback is in another country, or I would quote word for word), about him enjoying the thrill of the chase. To me, it seemed that Hugo was describing it as an almost erotic pleasure. And that got me thinking. This is the result of that thinking… Forgive me.

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**Pleasure**

Sergeant La Roche stamped his feet in a vain attempt to keep out the chill, but despite the three pairs of socks that he had put on before his shift that night, he was still so cold he was sure that his toes would remain in his boots when he took them off. He hunched his shoulders within his oversized coat and cast a surreptitious glance along the street at his superior. Monsieur l'Inspecteur was not looking in his direction. Perhaps La Roche could slip away and purchase a quick pep-up at the tavern opposite and be back on his watch before his absence would be noted.

As if he had heard what the younger man was thinking, Javert turned on cue and stared his sergeant directly in the eye. La Roche shivered; surely it was impossible for the inspector's gaze to have made him any colder than he already was? He looked down at the ground dejectedly, deciding that it would be foolish indeed to risk being caught out, however welcoming the liquor house might have looked to him in that moment. He looked back at Javert, the older man standing perfectly still on his post and seeming to be unaffected by the cold. His hands in his pockets, his intense stare had returned to the gaggle of prostitutes loitering on the street corner flaunting their wares. How they could possibly be warm enough in their scanty attire was beyond La Roche, but then again, he thought as he caught a glimpse of the thin, cheap fabric stretched over their décolletages and barely protecting modesty, they were definitely as cold as he was, only bearing it slightly better. The young man quickly averted his eyes, aware that he was gawping, and that if Monsieur l'Inspecteur caught him at it, there would be trouble.

"Lovely evening, isn't it?" A voice in his ear made La Roche jump out of his skin, but it was only Mesurier, come to join his watch. The two policemen stood in silence for a while, La Roche in no mood to grace his friend with an answer. He noted how Mesurier's eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly as he cast a practised eye over the whores. "Very nippy."

La Roche would have buried his face in his palm as a gesture of despair towards his comrade, but that would have meant moving his hands from under his armpits where he had placed them to try and prevent his losing a finger from frostbite. He was not sure how successful he was being.

"It's so sad," continued Mesurier, matter-of-factly. "It almost makes you want to get them a brazier erected."

La Roche did not let on what a marvellous idea a brazier was to his mind at that moment in time.

"Either that or take them up on the offer, if only to warm them up for ten minutes." Mesurier gave a snort of experienced laughter. "Mind you though, we must always remember that not everything goes stiff with the cold."

La Roche gave a low groan; his friend was fast becoming embarrassing. Thank God Monsieur l'Inspecteur was out of earshot.

"Poor girls." Mesurier smiled, completely disregarding his colleague's bashfulness. At least the blood rushing to his face warmed his cheeks somewhat. "They're getting goose-pimples on their goose-pimples."

This proved to be the final straw for La Roche. He jerked his head up sharply and managed to drag Mesurier's attention away from the women. "Will you stop staring at them?" he hissed. "L'Inspecteur will have you lynched for impropriety."

Mesurier hastily suppressed a chuckle and assumed as straight a face as possible, which turned out to be not very straight at all, the corners of his mouth constantly threatening to pull up into a leering grin.

"My innocent friend, I am merely following my orders. My orders are to watch the whores; to look for any who are new and not registered with the police surgeon, and to break up any unpleasantness. I am doing just that."

La Roche did not have the heart to try and explain to Mesurier that what he was doing was not 'watching', but rather 'window-shopping' for when he would come back later once his shift was over and Monsieur l'Inspecteur was not standing sentinel-like on the opposite corner.

"Besides, you can't tell me that l'Inspecteur is not thinking exactly the same thing as we are. It is only natural for a hot-blooded human male to view life in this way."

La Roche took a good look at his superior, further up the street. The older officer's face was expressionless, a far cry from Mesurier's positively hungry look. La Roche frowned; it was impossible to tell what the inspector was thinking, perhaps his friend was right and his thoughts were just as impure. But then, this was Monsieur l'Inspecteur, feared and respected by criminals and policemen alike. Surely… It struck La Roche just how little he knew about his superior. He was, after all, a man like they were. It could not be too much of a stretch to assume that he had the same thoughts and desires as the younger officers.

"I wonder…" Mesurier began, a mischievous smile creeping across his face as he broke off the sentence, lost in thought, finally breaking into laughter.

La Roche was afraid to enquire precisely what his comrade was wondering, especially when he knew the depths of depravity that Mesurier's mind had already sunk to. He ignored his friend and looked back up towards the gaggle of women and the statue-like inspector. However much he tried to avoid it, his thoughts always ended up going in the same inevitable direction. He looked away, hoping to rid himself of the wholly improper images that insisted on instilling themselves in his head, but this only brought him face to face (or rather face to chin; La Roche was not the tallest of officers on the force) with his lewd companion.

"Do you think," Mesurier began once more, and La Roche groaned inwardly; he knew that whatever it was that Mesurier sought his opinion of, he would not want to give it. "Do you think our stolid, dependable inspector has ever given in to the urges that this particular part of our work so cruelly inspires?"

La Roche closed his eyes and, concern for his fingers outweighed by embarrassment, buried his face in his hands with a mournful sigh.

"Mesurier," he said, muffled through a mouthful of glove, "sometimes you go too far. Far too far."

Naturally, Mesurier ignored him.

"I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that interlude," he sighed. "Ah, I can see it now, the…"

La Roche made a sound that was something between a sob and a hysterical yell of 'stop!', and Mesurier thankfully discontinued his description.

"He doesn't look like the type, I'll give you that," he admitted grudgingly. "But they do say that the quiet ones will always surprise you…"

"Mesurier! Monsieur l'Inspecteur is… well, he's Monsieur l'Inspecteur! An upstanding member…" The words died in his throat as Mesurier gave an amused snort, and La Roche came to the swift conclusion that the safest place for his face at the moment was back in his hands, sparing his blushes as best he could. He peered out of his cocoon sideways at the man of whom they spoke, and he thought he saw the inspector's lip curl upwards in a wolfish pseudo-smile before returning to its usual expressionless position.

"We all find our thoughts in the gutter in the end, _mon ami_," said Mesurier amicably, patting La Roche on the shoulder. "I am sure that such an upstanding member would never act on his impulses, however strong they may be."

"Mesurier," La Roche groaned. "Just stop. Don't say another word. Please."

"Oh, if I must. I shall keep my thoughts to myself from now on."

There was blissful silence for the next few minutes, and La Roche finally deigned to remove his face from his hands to let the chill wind cool his flush. As soon as he was feeling composed once more, Mesurier opened his mouth and all La Roche's efforts were defenestrated.

"But surely you must wonder; a man like that as pure as the drifting snow? It is… difficult to believe."

"Mesurier," La Roche murmured, "for the love of the Almighty, stop."

"No, please do continue." The new voice made La Roche freeze, and this reaction was completely unrelated to the weather. "I am most intrigued to hear your theories, Mesurier, indeed they have been entertaining me admirably during this particularly tedious shift."

La Roche forced himself to turn round and look up at the inspector's politely amused face.

"You heard…"

Javert nodded languidly.

"Do you expend as much energy on considering the circumstances in which the other superior officers lost their proverbial flowers, or do I alone have that honour? And, dare I ask, do you expend as much energy on doing the work that the prefecture is paying you to do as you do on pondering such hypotheses?"

La Roche looked sideways at his companion, who had gone as white as the drifting snow himself. Mesurier's mouth was opening and closing as if he was going to say something, but no words came out.

"I bid you good night, gentlemen," the inspector continued. "Enjoy the rest of your shift; I hear that the weather is set to turn even colder, so you may make of that what you will." He looked at Mesurier and quirked an eyebrow. "And sergeant, please remember in future that your superior officer's virginity or indeed lack thereof is hardly the most appropriate of conversation topics whilst on duty."

"Yes, Monsieur l'Inspecteur," Mesurier squeaked. La Roche had to hide a smile. As they turned back to continue the watch, the younger officers heard a single sentence float back to them over the sound of the inspector's retreating footsteps.

"An upstanding member indeed…"

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**Note2:** *Kimmeth hides.* Dearie me, the depths that my brain can sink to. It is RIDICULOUS. But still, I hope you enjoyed this nonetheless. And come on, as Mesurier would say, you've definitely considered the question yourself, haven't you? Ok, maybe just me then…


End file.
